


The Beat is Slow (In Order to Dance)

by faithfulpenelope



Series: The Thousandth Man [4]
Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Academy Era, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-20
Updated: 2016-09-20
Packaged: 2018-08-16 03:55:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8086126
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/faithfulpenelope/pseuds/faithfulpenelope
Summary: Jim just wants to dance.





	1. Chapter 1

Jim wants to go dancing.

Jim also knows that Bones’s first response will _oh hell no_ , so he’s come prepared with a thorough argument: he does not expect Bones to do the dancing (that’s what their other friends are for); the club has a respected and well-stocked liquor selection and some of the best rated bar food in town; and, while still a club, the venue in question has a _slightly_ more mature atmosphere than most of the dives Jim drags Bones to, meaning the percentages of Bones having to treat someone for an alcohol and/or fight related injury could be lowered.

 _Slightly_.

“Oh, great, _slightly_ ,” McCoy huffs, but Jim’s got one hand in his hair and the other on his hip and he’s looking at Bones with those bright blue eyes, and instead of saying no Bones has to just laugh, because really, who was he kidding, thinking he ever had a choice in the matter.

Besides, he’s earned it. It’s the last night of finals and in a great twist of karmic reciprocity for all those holiday shifts he’s taken on for the other doctors, Bones isn’t due to set foot in the hospital for _two whole days_. He’s not even on call, and when he pulls his omnipresent medical comm out of his pocket, gives it a little shake, and tucks it away in a desk drawer, Jim practically jumps for joy.

“Bones,” he breathes, bouncing a little on his tip-toes, “this is going to be _awesome_.”

“I’m gonna get wasted,” McCoy agrees cheerfully, and Kirk laughs.

“You haven’t come dancing with us in _forever_ ,” Gaila squeals when they finally manage to push through the crowd to the far tables where their friends are congregated, “not since –”, she waggles her eyebrows at them, “ _you know_.” Gaila’s the only one that knows about the two of them; Jim had told her when he ended their friends-with-benefits arrangement, figuring she deserved the truth. She’s proven herself to be a loyal confidante.

“Jim’s here to dance,” McCoy clarifies, and shakes his glass. “I’m here to drink.”

“We’ll see about that!” she whoops, and then she and Jim disappear into the throng only to reappear at the center of the dance floor. The music is some pop-synth beat, useless for anything but mindless dancing, and Jim and Gaila sway together with practiced ease. Jim dances like he fucks, completely unselfconscious and fluid and confident in his movements, and Bones has to look away to keep from getting hard just watching it. He falls into conversation with one of the other third-years from his dorm about…well, Bones isn’t sure what, because his eye keeps getting drawn back to Jim, the way his hips sway to the beat, his dirty blond hair matted to his sweaty forehead.

His drinking partner drones on, oblivious. “…So I said, we all get stuck with the shit shifts in the beginning, why should this kid be any different? It’s all part of the process, am I right?” he shouts in Bones’s ear, and McCoy nods absently.

“Sure,” he shouts back as Jim weaves his way between a pair of Andorian twins. “The process.”

“Damn kids,” the guy scoffs, and McCoy would roll his eyes if he wasn’t so busy staring. The girl Jim is with now is smiling but obviously shy, and she keeps hesitating and throwing them out of sync. Another girl, taller, more sensual, moves into Jim’s orbit, but he ignores her, takes the shy girl by the hips and pulls her into his rhythm, and after a moment she relaxes and just starts to move. Jim says something to her, and she laughs, leans back against his chest. Jim closes his eyes, throws his head back, exposing the long line of his throat, and Bones swallows hard against the visual.

Then his eyes open, and his gaze meets McCoy’s. He’s too far away to read Jim’s expression but Bones flushes, feels oddly ashamed at having been caught staring. Jim’s eyes narrow and he seems to nod his head towards McCoy when –

“McCoy. Did you hear me?”

“What?” He turns his head towards the other cadet. “I’m sorry, no, I didn’t hear you.”

“I asked what rotation you pulled first.”

“I didn’t,” he says, explaining for the umpteenth time that he’s already a real doctor, _thankyouverymuch_ , and if Starfleet thought he was going to redo his residency, then they had another thing coming. His companion looks like he doesn’t know whether to be impressed or annoyed, not that it matters, because there’s a hand on McCoy’s shoulder and a warm voice in his ear whispering _hey_. Bones bites his lip against the spark Jim’s voice sends down his spine and turns his head.

“Hey yourself.” Jim’s face is flushed and Bones slides his water over, watches Jim down the glass in one shot. “What are you doin’ over here?”

“Felt bad leaving you by yourself.”

Bones eyes him suspiciously. “You leave me by myself all the time,” he retorts. Jim shrugs, but he’s avoiding McCoy’s gaze. Bones taps his thigh, leans in a little closer. “Jim?”

“I saw you watching me,” Jim says in a rush, his breath warm against McCoy’s cheek. “When I dance – I know I get flirty, and this is the first time we’ve gone out like this –“

It dawns on McCoy what Jim’s trying to say. “You think – Jim, I’m not jealous,” he assures him. “I was staring because I like watching you dance.” Bones leans in even closer. “When you dance it reminds me of how you move in bed,” he rumbles in Jim’s ear, and grins when Jim shivers against him.

“Fuck,” Jim breathes. “Yeah, okay. Good. Good to hear that. I just – I didn’t want you to think I would ever do anything -”

“Hey,” Bones interrupts. He moves back, makes sure Jim is looking at him. “I trust you, Jim,” he says plainly, and it’s kind of heartbreaking how surprised Jim looks at that.

“Okay,” he says weakly, and McCoy smiles, then smacks him in the shoulder.

“Now get out there and dance,” he commands. Jim grins and fires off a jaunty salute.

“Aye, aye, sir,” he drawls with a wink, and McCoy has to laugh as Jim disappears into the crowd.


	2. Chapter 2

McCoy’s waiting for his turn at the pool tables when a familiar presence presses up against his side.

“You ready to ditch this place?”

That’s a surprise, because it’s only midnight. “Party’s barely started,” he shoots over his shoulder, watching as some cadet he doesn’t know tries valiantly – drunkenly – to do the mental math needed for a particularly difficult trick shot.

“I’m about ready to move on to a more private party. A more _intimate_ party.” Bones finally turns, and _sweet merciful mother_ , Jim’s got that _look_ in his eye, and McCoy has never handed off a pool cue so fast in his life. “Let’s go,” he grunts, already forcing his way through the crowd, and he thinks he hears Jim laughing behind him. Then they’re out in the cool night air and Bones breathes deep, feels the sweat cooling against his skin. He’s afraid to look at Jim, afraid he’ll grab him and drag him up against the nearest wall, cadet code of conduct be damned. Jim seems to have the same problem, judging from how hard his hands are jammed in his jean pockets. The tram pulls to a stop in front of him, and Bones drops into a corner seat of the empty car, one leg spread out on the bench, and watches as Jim leans against one of the center poles, legs spread wide for balance. He’s watching Bones with this thoughtful look on his face, one McCoy just can’t seem to figure out.

“What?” he says finally, and Jim shrugs, a little smile playing at his lips.

“Just thinkin’,” he says vaguely.

“’Bout what?”

“About you.” He swings from his pole to the one directly in front of McCoy, plants his feet around the one Bones still has on the floor. “About how fucking bad I want you right now.”

“ _Jesus_ , Jim.” McCoy ducks his face as he flushes bright pink and his dick jumps in his pants but Jim’s low chuckle tells him he hasn’t hidden anything. He gives Jim a side eye he hopes it at least slightly disapproving. “There are cameras on these things, you know.”

“I know,” Jim says evenly, gazing down at him through his lashes. “It’s the only reason I’m not on my knees right now.”

McCoy makes a small, desperate noise as his skull thunks against the metal head rest. Pain flares briefly but it’s a welcome distraction from the tightness in his groin. His hand twitches in his lap, ready to touch himself, touch Jim, touch something, and he squeezes it tight into a fist. “You’re a real fucker sometimes,” he says finally, and Jim’s face cracks open into a wicked grin.

“Not yet,” he says gleefully, and McCoy would smack himself for lobbing such a softball if he weren’t already laughing, “but hopefully soon.”

“Yeah, well, hope springs eternal,” he says gruffly, like they don’t already know where this is all heading, and Jim chuckles as the tram comes to a halt at their station.

“You know me, Bones,” he says as they step out into the quiet of the medical quad. “Ever the optimist.”


	3. Chapter 3

The door hisses shut and McCoy’s jacket hits the ground. He reaches out, pulls as Jim twists, and Kirk’s jacket hits next to it. Then he’s pulling Jim into his arms, their mouths meeting in a bruising kiss. Jim opens to him, his tongue sneaking out to lick at Bones’s lips, but only for a moment, and then he’s pulling away, reaching for the desk.

“Where are you going,” Bones growls, grabs at his waist, but Jim just laughs, kicks out of his boots.

“I want you to dance with me,” he breathes, laughs again when Bones just scowls. “Come on, Bones. You know you want to.”

“I _don’t dance_."

Jim shakes his head, cues up something on his PADD. The music is calmer, less manic as the music at the club, but the driving bass remains, so deep it thumps against McCoy’s ribcage. “You don’t dance with other people,” Jim corrects, swaying into Bones’s personal space just enough for McCoy to reach for him. “I’m not other people. So dance with me, Bones.”

McCoy wraps a hand around Kirk’s hip, cups the other around Jim’s crotch. It’s hard and hot under his hand. “I thought you wanted to fuck me,” he rumbles in Jim’s ear, and Jim shivers a little.

“I do,” he whispers against his cheek, “I will. But first…” He twists away and Bones groans, a pained sound. “I want you to dance with me.”

“Jim…”

“Bones,” Jim echoes back. He slots himself behind Bones, steps on the back of his boots so Bones can slide his feet out of them. Jim kicks them to the side and presses up against his back, takes his hips in his hands, a barely-there touch. His breath is warm on his neck and Bones tilts his head back, lets it come to rest on Jim’s shoulder, lets himself start to sway to the music. “That’s it, baby,” Jim murmurs in his ear, and Bones lets out a ragged breath. “Just let go and follow me.”

 _I’d follow you anywhere_ , Bones thinks, pulls Jim’s arms around him tighter. Jim’s hands snake up under his shirt, one against his belly, the other up against his chest, fingers drumming to the pulsing beat. Bones reaches behind him, wraps an arm around Jim’s neck, and is rewarded with a soft kiss against his jaw.  

"Told ya you could dance," Jim teases in his ear, and Bones would complain that  _this isn't really dancing_ but it feels too good, Jim pressed up against him, happy and warm and all  _his_ , so all he says is, "sure, kid," wraps his hand around Jim's hip to pull him even closer.  They're swaying to the beat, the movement creating a delicious friction, and Bones roll his hips back, hears Jim's breath catch in his throat.  Then he chuckles, low and deep, and Bones can barely get his arms up before his shirt is up and over his head, Jim's following it to the floor.  Jim spins them so it's his back against Bones's chest and  _Christ, that's even better,_ and it makes Bones even harder in his jeans.  

" _Jim_ ," he pleads, and it'd be pathetic how needy he sounds, if he could bring himself to care.  Jim doesn't answer, just pulls him close, grinds back on him in slow, rhythmic circles, and all Bones can do is hold on and move with him.  His fingers bump the edge of Jim's jeans and he can't help it, he's slipping his hands underneath to stroke the soft skin of Jim's lower belly, and for the first time all night Jim falters, bucks his hips out of rhythm to meet McCoy's fingers.  Bones grins, holds Jim's chest tighter with one hand as he flicks open the button of Jim's pants with the other.  

"Bones."  It's more an exhalation than a word, and Jim presses his face into Bones's neck as he takes Jim in hand through his briefs and strokes.  His hips buck forward, the beat forgotten.  "Bones, please."

"You wanted to dance," Bones teases, squeezing gently as he grinds his hips against Jim's backside, and Jim whimpers against his neck.  "So let's dance."  

But then Jim whines," _baby_ ," his voice just  _wrecked_ , and Bones comes _undone_.  

He kisses Jim, deep and filthy, his tongue stroking Jim's as he yanks down Jim's jeans and underwear around his thighs, just enough to get to what he needs.  Jim's hands knock against his as they both pull at his own pants, and he moans into Jim's mouth when Jim finally wraps a hand around his cock.  

"Oh,  _fuck_ ," he groans, bucking his hips into the warm grasp, and Jim growls back, his mouth wet against Bones's jawline.  They hit the wall with a dull thud, and Jim takes advantage, pins Bones up against the flat surface and fucks his tongue into his mouth in rhythm with his strokes, in rhythm with the pulsing beat.  Bones tries to hang on, he does, but it's too much, the anticipation and the want and the sheer force that is Jim Kirk, and he can only cling to Jim as he comes hard between them.   Jim's breath is still coming fast and shallow and he's gasping out what sounds like Bones's name, and with his last burst of energy Bones slams him back against the wall and drops to his knees, takes Jim in his mouth and sucks hard, his tongue curling in  _just that way_ that always makes Jim break, and Jim does, his hips jerking one last time as he comes in hard spurts down Bones's throat.

It's all he can do to keep Jim from toppling forward as he tries to guide Jim down to the floor, and Jim lands with an  _oof_ next to him, his head rolling back to bump against the wall.  They sit there for a few moments, panting, trying to calm their breathing, calm their minds, before Jim pulls Bones in and kisses him, sweet and slow.  Bones kisses him back, rests his forehead against his shoulder.  Then he feels a soft nudge to his side.

"So can we going dancing again?" 

Bones cants his head just enough to peak out one eye.  Jim's grinning, his blue eyes sparking with mischief and joy and  _love_ , and any part of Bones that was going to say  _no_   just disappears.

"Sure, kid," he says instead, and it makes his heart hurt when Jim's grin grows even wider.  "Whenever you want."

 


	4. Coda

_> You ditched me! _

The comm flashes in the corner of Jim’s PADD, distracting him from the article he’s reading. He grins, swipes it open so he can respond.

_> Sorry. Found a really hot guy by the pool tables. Kind of grumpy, but sexy as hell. Had to get him out of there before someone else snatched him up. _

_> And where is this hot guy now?_

Jim looks to his side, where Bones is curled up tight, his breathing steady as he sleeps.

_> Still sleeping. Must be the lazy sort. _

_> Somehow I doubt that,_ comes Gaila’s response. _It’s too bad, though. I’m standing in line at that bakery you love and I was going to pick up a dozen donuts, but if I’ve got no one to share them with…_

_> Does sharing these donuts require me to get out of bed? _

_> Not if you don’t mind me getting in. _

Jim grins.

_> You know where I am. I’ll buzz you in._

xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The smell of baked goods hits Jim first. Then Gaila does.

“Oof,” Jim says feebly as she lands half on him, her long red curls obscuring his vision as she makes herself comfortable. “Good morning, Gaila.”

“Good morning, Jim,” she chirps, yanking his pillow over to use as a backrest. Jim scowls, and she laughs, shoves a donut under his nose.

“What the -” The mumble comes from deep under the covers, sleepy and slow, and Jim and Gaila watch as a hand emerges, then a head. Bones squints against the light. “What’s happening right now?”

“Gaila brought us donuts,” Jim says, and Bones blinks at him.

“Oh,” he says dumbly, and it’s a strange combination of confusion and disappointment that plays across his face. “I thought – I don’t know – I thought something else was happening for a minute.”

“What could be -” Jim stops short as it dawns on him, and the grin that splits his face is pure glee. “Bones, did you think this was a _threesome_?”

“What? No. No,” Bones protests, loudly – poorly – and Gaila squeals.

“He did!”

“I did _not_!”

“Bones,” Jim cajoles, sliding down to wrap himself around Bones. McCoy bucks his hips, arches his back in an attempt to dislodge him, but Jim’s like an octopus, all clingy limbs, and after a minute of struggle Bones huffs his defeat and sinks back into the bed. “Bones,” Jim purrs in his ear, rubbing his chin along a bare shoulder, and McCoy twists it with an annoyed grunt. “You can admit it. You did. Just a little.”

“Fuck off,” Bones whines against the mattress. “Why are you being so mean to me?”

Jim makes a noise like he’s offended. “Because of me, there’s a beautiful woman bearing donuts in your bed. How can that even be considered mean?”

“You are responsible for neither the beautiful woman nor the donuts,” Bones counters, “only for my pain.”

“The beautiful woman is responsible for herself,” Gaila interrupts loudly. “And she’s going to eat all of the donuts herself if you two don’t cut it out with your passive-aggressive hanky-panky.”

“Passive-aggressive hanky-panky – I’ll have you know our hanky-panky is _totally_ aggressive,” Jim protests, but the distraction is enough for Bones to get a leg up and heave him off, back into the middle of the bed. Jim yelps as Bones climbs on top of him, leaning in to smack a kiss on Gaila’s cheek.

“Dude, move your knee,” Jim grits out, shoving at the offending limb where it digs into his thigh. Bones rolls his eyes, shoves his leg between Jim’s instead, before turning back to Gaila.

“Morning, sweetheart. Thanks for the goodies,” he rumbles, and Gaila beams. She holds up the box and Bones grins and plucks out a Boston Crème. The filling threatens to leak out all over the bed and he lifts it to his mouth, gives the side of it a hard suck.

“ _Oh_ ,” Jim says weakly from beneath him, and Gaila kicks his knee.

“Shut it,” she commands. “Dr. Leonard and I are having a moment.”

“Watch it,” Jim warns, a little breathless. He palms the thigh between his, just under the edge of his sleep shorts. “That’s _my_ Dr. Leonard.”

“ _Dr. Leonard_ is sitting right here,” Bones interjects, but Gaila just shushes him, and he huffs. “Fine,” he gripes, and stretches out along the bed, the movement dragging his shorts down dangerously low. “I’ll just eat my donut while you two bicker.” He sticks his tongue out, obscenely flat, and drags it along the chocolate coating the top of the donut, his eyes drifting shut as he groans with pleasure.

Gaila makes a soft noise. “About that threesome,” she says lowly, and Jim’s prepared to laugh but Bones stills, arches an eyebrow at Jim, as if to say, _what about it_?

Jim finds himself, surprisingly, hesitating.

Gaila is fantastic in bed, Bones is even better, and the two of them together – it'd be so good, it doesn’t even _compute_ , and he waits for the flood of desire to hit him, but it’s possessiveness he feels instead, possessiveness and love and satisfaction with what he has. “I don’t share,” he says finally, and the way Bones bites at his lip and smiles, slow and deep, tells Jim Bones is pleased. A bit of cream drips from the forgotten pastry and Bones catches it on his thumb, holds it out for Jim to taste. Jim takes his wrist in his hand, sucks up the sweet cream, twirling his tongue around Bones’s thumb.

“Gaila, sweetheart,” Bones says, his voice tight as he tries to keep it even.

“I can’t even watch?” she whines, but Jim shoots her a glare. “Fine, fine. I’m leaving.”

“Yeah, okay, thanks for – oh, _Jesus_ , Jim,” Bones gasps, because Jim’s already straddling him, his mouth on McCoy’s neck, his hand down his shorts, and Gaila sighs.

“Ditched twice in a row,” she gripes to no one in particular, grabs the box of the bed and lets herself out. “I’m taking the donuts with me, damn it.”


End file.
